


No Children

by fuck_me_barnes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Confused Steve, Domestic Fluff, F/M, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mom!Natasha, Multi, Polyamory, Slow To Update, Spy Thriller kinda, Surprise Parenthood, Tags May Change, Undercover as Married, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?, dad!bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-24 09:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2576285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuck_me_barnes/pseuds/fuck_me_barnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They said there would be no children. </p><p>They were wrong.</p><p>In which there is a baby left on the doorstep of Avengers tower, and a spy thriller domestic AU ensues. With a baby.</p><p>
  <b>This work will be slow to update. </b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This came from out of nowhere and is probably terrible. I'm sorry.

Bucky will never, he knows, have children of his own. Not the way _he_  is. 

He grew up the eldest of four, one of the three girls resting on his hip or climbing up him like a tree, _Bucky Bucky Bucky_ , clamoring for him when he gets in the door after school, curling sleepily in his lap, asking him to spin them around or pick them up to throw them in the air. Babysitting them and a couple of the other little ones on his block. "You're just a natural with kids, James," some of the neighborhood moms would murmur after watching him play with the little ones, the unspoken thought in the curve of their smile: _you'll make a great dad someday_.

So, yeah, there are regrets.

It would have been nice, he thinks sometimes, to have had that kind of life, that sort of future instead of the one he ended up with. Walking in the door after a day at work and hearing the cry of " _Daddy!_ " as he drops to his knees to receive a milk-sweet embrace and a flurry of sticky kisses. Packing everyone in the car for church on Sundays, patent-leather shoes and pink dresses rustling. Crayon drawings pasted reverently to the fridge door. Sunday dinners with the whole family, listening to the littlest one say grace with a lisp he secretly loves. Late nights rocking a fussy baby till they finally fall asleep, long dark eyelashes resting on cherubic cheeks. Maybe they'd have his eyes but her nose, her smile but his laugh. 

But then there was Steve, and then there was the war, and then. And then. And then.

 

* * *

Nowadays it's not something he even thinks of much anymore. There's Natalia, and there's Steve, and there's the team, the world to save, a life in which he's never really secure and rarely home, if you can even call it a home, anymore.

His home's not a  _place_ , anyways, it's people. The curve of Steve's smile, the scent of his skin, the call-and-response of "jerk" and "punk". That night in Paris, with Natalia.  _Just some lost soldier who forgot he ever had a home_ , he'd told Nat,  _until you gave me one_. She'd flushed and smiled prettily at that, for a half-second, before scrunching up her face and swatting at him playfully. She's so beautiful, and he loves her so much, but in this life, in this line of work, what they've made him and what he's become, there is no happily ever after. There is no place for the white picket fence, no quiet suburban home, no children. 

 

* * *

There would be no children.

That's what they'd told her. The serum they'd given her as a reward for successfully completing her training in the Red Room as a Black Widow agent, it enhanced her strength, sped up her healing, made her reflexes faster, her cognitive processes accelerate. It also effectively rendered her sterile, her body rejecting implantation of any fertilized eggs in the lining of her womb. Permanent birth control. Black Widow agents have no need and certainly no time for pregnancy, birth, mothering. 

No children.

They'd framed it as a reward, not as a punishment.

Sometimes, she'd find herself sitting on the terrace of a cafe somewhere, idly people-watching under dark sunglasses. The ladies in yoga pants and carefully messy ponytails pushing jog strollers down the street. The ones trying to hold a cellphone conversation and holding a toddler's hand. One with a newborn in a sling curled against her chest, humming softly to it, the entire rest of the world shut out of the mother-and-child bubble she'd created. It was fascinating. She'd observe, and make mental notes, and so what if she wondered what it might be like?

Once, in the grocery store, while its mother was absorbed in selecting condensed soups, a toddler grinned at her and said "Hi!", its blonde hair sticking up every which way. Its chubby hand opened and closed in a wave. "Hi hi hi." Something felt like it crushed in her chest and she said "Hi!" back with a bright smile just as wide, and the baby laughed and she laughed and the tail of it sounded like a sob. It wasn't till the next aisle, where she was pretending to study different brands of spaghetti sauce, that she took several deep breaths to get control of herself.

It was disturbing. Where had _that_ come from?

There would be no children, and that was _okay_ , that was _all right_ , not everyone had children and those people lived their lives just _fine_ , long, fulfilling, _happy_ lives, and they never felt as if anything were missing, not even  _once_.

 

* * *

Steve is pretty sure he's seen a kid or two on TV, or in the park, maybe? On a USO tour when he was handed one or two for a photo op with an adoring mother, and he took it, unthinking, grimacing at it like it might bite him. Chins covered in drool, weird smells, faces red and wrinkled, high-pitched crying and big fat tears streaming down puffy cheeks.

Yeah, 1944 was the last time he'd willingly come within fifteen feet of a child.

Bucky had had sisters - a whirlwind of them, three younger ones, and they were _okay_ , he supposed, for as much as he'd spent time avoiding them - but as an only child, Steve had always felt uneasy around the little ones. Buck was aces with them, though. Suppose he had to be.

 

* * *

 

The baby in the carrier that had been deposited in the lobby can't be more than a couple weeks old, he figures, but it's hard to tell. It's so _tiny_. At least, Bucky observes, whoever it was who had left it here wasn't in _total_ disregard of its safety. It looked clean and warm, at least, bundled in a sleeper with little ducks on it interspersed with the words "quack quack quack", accented by a soft-knit yellow hat and booties.

"Are you serious? This is so cliche. Who would even do this." Natasha sounds equal parts irritated and concerned, the question coming off flat.

"I hear you can leave 'em at fire stations nowadays. No harm, no foul," Steve says hopefully, as if he would like to do exactly that, immediately. "Maybe they thought this was a fire station...?"

"Steve, there's a giant damn 'A' on the side of the building and etched into all the glass on the first floor," Bucky hisses. "There's a giant gold-plated sign on the entryway that says 'AVENGERS TOWER' and Tony keeps it all lit up 24 hours a day. There is _no fuckin' way_."

The baby's face scrunches up and begins fussing, so Bucky leans down and scoops the little squalling bundle out of the carrier and up into his arms, careful to place a hand behind her neck as he moves it. "Ssh shh shh shhh," he hums at the baby, tucking it into the crook of his right arm. Immediately, she starts squirming restlessly and rooting at his chest. "Oh hell," Bucky groans. "I don't suppose they left a bottle...or diapers. Steve, can you-"

Bucky looks over, and Steve is staring at him as if he is cradling a live grenade. He rolls his eyes with a little smirk. "It's a _baby_ , Stevie, not a bomb."

"Well, you never know," Steve huffs nonsensically, and takes a look inside the basket. "Just a single bottle. And this note. Says..." he glances at it, and then he chokes. "BUCKY. Says...it's yours."

Natasha snatches the note from him, her eyes narrowing...and then widening in stunned shock. "Not just his," she whispers. She stares at the paper, shaking her head, her eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. " _Ours_."

Steve says _WHAT_ at the same time Bucky yelps _HOW_ and the baby, startled, cries even harder.

 

* * *

__

_**Project Homebirth File No: 165674392** _

 

_**Place of Birth** : Facility 97b_

_**Date of Birth** : September 10_

_**Sex** : F_

_**Height** : 18 inches_

_**Weight** : 6lb, 7 oz _

_**Name** : EV-1719_

_**Father** : Sample E-1745 (Barnes, James Buchanan)_

_**Mother** : Sample V-1929 (Romanova, Natalia Alianovna)_

_**Gest** : 37w_

_**Apgar** : 8_

 

_**NOTES** : Subject appears healthy and normal despite slight prematurity, all vitals strong. Post-natal test screenings have been given clearance to begin at six weeks, wherein subject will be placed with host family thereafter if it is deemed viable to continue with project. Subject is first of five potentials with this specific genetic makeup._

* * *

"What do we _do_ with it?"

Bucky turns his head towards her slowly, like he can't believe his ears. "Whaddya mean, what do we _do_ with it? We can't just _leave it here_."

"We don't have _time_ for this, James-" she has to almost shout, now, to make herself heard over the crying. 

"Natalia. I'm not leaving it -" he stops, examining the squalling bundle more closely, "-  _her_ , here. She's _ours_." The words feel weird leaving his mouth. _Ours_. It circles around in his brain. His and Natalia's. Their baby. Their daughter. He has a daughter. _They have a daughter_. And they'd said there'd be no children. He suppresses a wild burst of hysterical laughter. "Can you just - Steve, be useful and hand me the goddamn bottle." 

The vaguely horrified expression has still not left Steve's face, and he looks as if he is seriously contemplating putting his hands over his ears to muffle the noise. "Uh, here," he says, handing it to Bucky as if it contained a deadly poison. Bucky sighs and snatches it from him, putting it to the baby's lips. Immediately, it stops crying and starts drinking hungrily. As he watches the baby, he can't help but smile at it. Once the bottle is gone, he swings the blanket over his shoulder and shifts the kid up, patting its back lightly to burp.

When he looks up, both Nat and Steve are staring at him, Nat looking panicked and Steve looking uneasy. "Jesus Roosevelt Christ, you two, I swear. It ain't gonna bite ya." The baby burps, and Bucky looks down at her, pleased. "First things first. Kid needs diapers, kid needs formula, kid needs some clothes. 'S gotta happen before we start trying to figure out any more of this mess. C'mon."

 

* * *

 

She is, of course, unquestionably the most beautiful baby he's ever seen. Despite Steve's insistence that all babies look like Winston Churchill, Bucky thinks she's the most gorgeous thing he's ever set eyes on.

Her eyes are Nat's - big and sea-green and almond-shaped, pretty as a picture. Her mouth, though, even with its little rosebud bow, he's pretty sure that's close enough to his. When no one's looking, he pushes back the yellow knit cap and there's a shock of dark hair underneath it - same colour as his. The nose, well, it's hard to tell, looking like a little button, but he's pretty sure it's Natalia's, too, it looks more aquiline than his does. Except for the hair, he figures she's the spitting image of Natalia, mostly.

When she looks at him serenely and grasps his finger with her tiny hand, it almost takes his breath away. It's love, yeah, okay, full-stop, and he's all in.

 

* * *

 

Minutes later the three of them stand, staring, in the diaper aisle of the local big-box department store. 

"Um," Bucky says intelligently. "Wow." For the first time, he starts to feel a swell of panic himself. There were too many choices, too many options, and what if he made the wrong one? He looks over at the carrier, strapped onto the shopping cart, where the kid was sleeping. Long dark eyelashes on cherubic cheeks. Everything he'd never dared imagine. _His daughter_.

Steve bites his lip, and looks between several brands of wipes. "Sensitive skin? All-natural? I don't..."

"Cloth...or...disposable...?" Natasha murmurs, assessing the diapering choices before them with all the gravity of a delicate wetworks operation. 

Bucky doesn't hesitate before making that call. He remembers what it was like to help his ma with the laundry. "Disposable, for sure. If I never wash another diaper as long as I live, I'll be a happy man."

In the carrier, the baby shifts in her sleep. "She's moving. What do I do?" hisses Nat. Bucky doesn't say anything, just raises his eyebrow at her.

 

* * *

 

Two hours and an obscene sum of money later (thank God for the Avengers Black credit cards that Tony had insisted upon securing for everyone), Bucky declares them properly outfitted. At least, as far as he knows. Kids were a lot simpler when he was growing up. Now there was all this... _stuff_ you had to buy. Special creams and flame-retardant sheets and developmentally engaging toys and organic disposable diapers and wipe warmers and convertible car seats and baby swings and BPA-free plastic bottles and pacifiers and bouncers and cribs with safety bars and... He looks over at Natalia, who's darting subtle nervous glances around the store and worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, one of her tells that she's close to reaching her breaking point.

"Hey. Tash." She glances over at him, pressing her lips together in a tight line. He tips her a wry grin, filling it with confidence he doesn't exactly feel. He leans in towards her, his voice low. "Listen. 'S gonna be okay. Promise. We'll figure it out." To his relief, she manages to return a wan smile.

"Oh, look at this sweet little one!" a voice in front of them croons. A grey-haired little old lady is leaning over the carrier, looking at the kid. "How precious. What's the little dear's name?" 

Bucky blanks out on any and every given name on this earth. Name? He recalls the note that had come with the baby. Name: _EV-1719_. "Uh, Evie-" he starts, at the same time Natalia blurts out "Rose." The grandmotherly woman tilts her head at them, confused. "Ah... _Evelyn Rose_ ," he corrects, and the woman's perplexed expression smoothes back into one of delight. 

"Oh, how beautiful. I do love that the classic names are making a comeback. My sister's name was Evelyn." the woman hums, stroking the baby's cheek. 

"Mine too," says Bucky, without thinking. "One of 'em, anyways."

The grandmotherly woman strokes the baby's cheek gently. "How old is she?"

 "One month today," Natasha says smoothly, and flashes a proud new-mom smile at both her and Bucky. Bucky can't help falling in love with her a little more, at that.

 

* * *

 "Evelyn?" hisses Natasha, once they get back into the car. 

"Yeah. Evie for short. 'S her name, according to the file. EV-1719." Bucky winks at her and looks back down at the kid. _Evie_. He can't take his eyes off her. "And it _was_ one of my sisters' names. That part wasn't a lie." Evelyn, he doesn't need to add, had passed back in 1998. Pancreatic cancer.

When Evelyn was a baby, she'd had his ma's blonde hair, like everyone on the Buchanan side. Looked like corn silk. He'd learned to braid it when he was seven and she was three. She'd always sit so patiently for him, and it became one of their favourite things: Bucky getting her ready for school, Evelyn basking in the few minutes of undivided attention from her only brother. Evelyn who'd loved horses and sassafras candy, Evelyn who'd beg him to read to her at night, Evelyn who was the boisterous baby of the family, full of energy and always smiling.

"Evie," he croons at the baby, "Evelyn _Rose_ , yeah." The little girl looks at him, and Bucky swears she smiles.

 

* * *

 

Nat had always dreamed of a baby named Rose. A perfect, tiny little thing, who she could hold and sing to late at night, lullabies in Russian in an old rocking chair, the warmth and the weight of her a kind of tranquilizer in and of itself. Rose, who she'd teach how to read in six different languages, Rose whose laugh would sound like music, Rose that she'd spend rainy afternoons colouring with. Maybe Rose would have red hair, just like her, or green eyes, just like her. Serious and somber, intense and focused, silly and sweet would be little Rose. Smart as a whip, fierce as a dragon, and a smile as beautiful as the sunrise. These were the daydreams Natasha had kept to herself, way down deep, in her secret heart. 

And now there _was_ a baby, and the baby scared the hell out of her. She didn't trust it. Bucky was obviously, irredeemably in love with it, that much was obvious. He didn't stand a chance, especially since the words "it's ours" had left her lips. But that child hadn't spent nine months resting next to her heartbeat, that child wasn't expected nor particularly welcome, that child she had spent most of her life pretending would never happen to her, not ever, and that that was _fine_.

And yet. 

She was gorgeous, that she had to admit. She looked so much like James it was astonishing, like a little clone (minus the three-day stubble). When James was off carefully selecting onesies, she'd brushed back the baby's hat and seen the fine black hair underneath, her suspicions confirmed. Nat had smiled at her even though she was sleeping, leaning in for just a moment to brush a kiss across her forehead. The scent of her was intoxicating - sweet and spicy and warm and _delicious_. 

 _Mine. Ours. My daughter. I have a daughter. And they said there'd be no children_.

 

* * *

 

"I _guess_ Evelyn Rose will do." Nat cracks a half-smile at Bucky, pretending to be put out, and Bucky grins back at her. God, he loves her so much.

Steve rolls his eyes and puts the car in gear. "And here I thought you guys would have had baby names all taken care of ages ago."

"Hush, you." Nat turns to Evie, who's started fussing again. "Who's mama's pretty girl?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next! In which the new parents adjust to, well, parenthood, and...wait, did that note say 'one of five'? 
> 
> Uh-oh.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Natasha inhales sharply, watching his every movement with intense scrutiny. "Careful...careful. Move slowly."

"No, no, no, you gotta be _quick_. In, out, boom, done. Don't hesitate. And _don't_ show fear. They can _smell_ fear, and once they know you're afraid, it's all over", Steve advises somberly.

"Oh my god will you two just shut up? It's a diaper change, I'm not defusing a nuclear warhead. And I know how to do this, okay? Yeah, it's been awhile, but it's like riding a bike." He lifts up Evie's legs and slides a clean diaper underneath her, and she starts to wail. Bucky's brow furrows in confusion. "Evie, Evie, c'mon, baby girl, what's the matter?" He tilts his head and then belatedly realizes his mistake. "Oh, no, oh _hell_ , baby doll, no, no, 'm sorry, it's cold, isn't it? Shit fuck _goddamn_ I wasn't thinking, I didn't even think about it."  
  
"Language", Natasha murmurs absently, watching him and the baby with mild confusion.

He hastily finishes changing her and scoops her up in his right arm carefully, where she continues to cry. Steve winces at the sound. Nat looks puzzled. "My hand. My left hand. It's, the metal's cold on her, on her skin. She didn't like it." Bucky looks like he might cry himself.

Steve, ever sensitive to Bucky's moods, takes pity on him, and reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, his blue eyes sincere. "Buck. You're doing great. Really. You are. It's okay."

He laughs, a bit ruefully. "Once when I was changing Becca, she cried and cried and cried after, and I couldn't figure out why. I gave her a bottle, I walked her around, I sang to her for half an hour, and she still howled and howled till she got red in the face. I got real scared. Turns out I accidentally stuck her with one of the diaper pins when I was changing her. Never forgave myself for it, was maybe one of the worst things I ever done, I mean, it was an _accident_ , but still. I just, I guess I just remembered that, and." Bucky sighs. "These diapers don't even _have_ pins."

It strikes him then that he hadn't recalled this particular memory for the longest time - his baby sister Rebecca, dark curls and blue eyes, just like him. She'd been easygoing, calm, and quick to smile. Remembering her, especially as a baby, made Bucky's heart ache worse. Rebecca had passed peacefully in her sleep ten years ago, he'd learned. Becca would have loved being an auntie.

"She'll be alright. She's pretty resilient. Just like her parents," Steve grins at him, bringing him back to the present. He looks over to Nat, who's still watching with cautious interest as if she's observing a foreign ceremonial ritual of some kind.

Bucky hitches Evie up a bit in his arm. "Y'wanna hold her, Natalia? Maybe try out the sling?"

At this suggestion, Nat's smile is fast and tight, almost like a grimace. "I. Mmm." She swallows. "Maybe later."

Smirking, Bucky ignores her and goes to one of the many bags they'd brought home to fish it out. "C'mon, let's figure out how this thing works."

 

* * *

 

Thirty minutes, half a dozen Google searches, and two YouTube instructional videos later, they finally are able to parse out the instructions to get Evie in the sling. It's soft and teal with little pink stars on it. "This clashes with literally everything I own," Natasha jokes weakly.

In truth, she's terrified of touching her. As much as she didn't mind kids, she was afraid of hurting her, somehow, or dropping her, or doing something terribly irreparably _wrong_ with her. She was so tiny, and Natasha had only a purely academic interest in children before now. Normal new-parent fears, in other words; perfectly understandable in anyone given nine months to prepare for it, but completely reasonable for anyone who has, utterly without warning, acquired a child only three hours earlier in the day.

However, as soon as Evie is slid securely into the sling, and Nat feels the weight of her, smells the intoxicatingly lovely, sweet and spicy scent of her skin, she relaxes. Evie makes a cooing sound and burbles happily. 

"Aw," says Bucky.

"Aw," says Steve.

"Aw," says Clint. 

The three of them turn to see him leaning in the doorway, eating an apple. "What are you guys...is that a _baby_?"

 

* * *

 

 "...and so, um, that's how we acquired this baby," Bucky finishes. "Her name's Evie. Short for Evelyn. Evelyn Rose."

Maria Hill has her head in her hands, trying to facepalm herself out of existence. Thor is beaming - he loves children and has asked to hold her at least half a dozen times - but Natasha's too embarrassed to say that she's not sure how to get Evie _out_ of the sling. Sam had just shrugged, grinned, and offered his congratulations. Pepper is sitting at the table tapping away at a tablet, ordering state-of-the-art educational toys and games (and, no doubt, about a dozen or more outfits from a high-end baby boutique). Tony looks equal parts horrified and amused by the entire story, and snatches the note they'd found from Bucky's hands to look at. Bruce, though, wants to give the kid a DNA test, among a battery of others.

Clint kneels down next to a friendly-looking golden retriever, missing one eye. "Lucky, look. Bucky and Natasha have a puppy for you to play with!" Lucky barks and wags his tail happily. Darcy snorts and rolls her eyes.

"Since we don't know where she came from...if they've done...other things...with the DNA or given her any versions of the serum that we should know about...I mean, I'm a _physicist_ , not a medical doctor, but I'm pretty sure JARVIS can help us out with whatever diagnostics we need. And..." Bruce struggles with how to phrase this, "it's not that I don't believe she's yours, but it'd be good to know for sure?"

Nat's brow furrows and her arm instinctively wraps around Evie in the sling, turning her body to show him the baby's face. "Bruce, _look_ at her. She's the _spitting image_ of James," she says, at the exact same time Bucky exclaims "Seriously? She looks _just_ like Natalia, look at her _eyes_!" They turn and look at each other, incredulous, and then bust up laughing after a beat.

"You _really_ think she looks like me?" Natasha says.

"You think she looks like _me_?" Bucky laughs.

"So, not to alarm the three of you here, but, alarm incoming," Tony speaks up a bit louder than necessary, pulling up a projection screen, "and so um, this note here, if I'm reading it correctly, which I am, says that she's one of _five_?" He gestures at the projection screen and some text in blue and a few diagrams pop up, glowing softly. "I only see one rugrat." He spares a glance for the three of them. "Where'd you stash the rest of 'em?"

Bucky pales. Natasha inhales sharply.

Steve clenches his jaw. "Pardon?"

"Says here, down at the bottom. I can see how you would've missed it.  _Subject is first of five potentials with this specific genetic makeup._ So. Where are the other four?"

Everyone else slowly stops what they're doing, and the room fills with a silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. As if on cue, Evie starts to cry.

"They -whoever they are - only left us her. She's probably hungry," Bucky says, in a daze. "Let's go get her fed and then...we'll...figure this...all out."

 

* * *

 

Bucky hands her the warmed bottle and says, "Go ahead, 's your turn to feed her." When Nat flashes up a glare at him, he just smiles at her softly. "You gotta learn sometime." He pats her on the shoulder and stands up, stretching, and then begins to sort out the baby things from the bags that Steve had placed neatly in the corner of the room.

She settles herself in the rocking chair that Bucky had insisted upon purchasing (and quickly assembling) earlier in the day. _Really it's not so bad_ , she thinks, _it's not hard_. Evie drinks hungrily for awhile, and she rocks her as she does, humming encouragement and little fragments of Russian folk songs to her. "Evie, _tsiplyenichka_ , _moya zvyozdochka_ , Evelyn Rose," she whispers to her, stroking her cheek with a single finger. She traces the length of her nose with her fingertip, _James' nose, no doubt about that_ , and the baby's eyes start to flutter shut sleepily.

When Bucky comes back in the room, he stops dead near the doorway and just stares at her, an odd expression on his face.

"Hmm?" Nat asks quietly, raising an eyebrow at him, still rocking gently.

He walks over to them both, kneels down next to the rocker. "I just. Natalia, you. I wasn't prepared for. The two of you. 'S the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, lookin' at you both like this." He sounds breathless and stunned, and it makes the corners of her mouth crinkle up along with her eyes in a warm smile.

"Knocks the wind right outta me, Christ. I'd never..." he ducks his head a little, as if embarrassed at his admission. "Figured that this kinda thing, wasn't our lot in life, you know? 'N I was okay with it, I never really let myself realize how much...how much I _wanted_ it, 'till right now." 

For all of the big badass superspy and highly skilled assassin that he is, the way James Buchanan Barnes wears his heart on his sleeve for Natasha has always been one of his most endearing traits. His penchant for making grandiose, sweeping romantic statements like that, his ability to always _surprise_ her with them, is one of the many reasons she loves him so much. " _Moy mili_ ," she whispers to him fondly, because Evie's fallen asleep, milk-drunk, in her arms.

He leans in then, kisses Nat and then Evie on the forehead softly before settling down next to them on the floor. He can't get over how good the baby smells, and how much better her scent is mixed with Natasha's. "D'you really think there are four more of her out there?" he asks, worry creasing his brow. From behind him, he can hear the door slide open.

Sighing, she looks down at the sleeping baby and bites her lip. "I don't know. It's a possibility. If it's true, then..."

"Then we gotta go after them." Steve walks in, and to his credit, he keeps his serious-business Captain America voice down. "We already came to that conclusion while you guys were out taking care of her. If there's even the _least_ possiblity someone out there is using your genetic material without your consent, experimenting on children and worse, then we're going to do whatever we can to stop them, and if there _are_ other children out there...we'll help you with them. We're your friends. We're not gonna let you guys do this alone."

Bucky and Nat both smile at him. "And, Nat?" Steve leans in to plant a kiss on her forehead just as Bucky had, and, softly, gently, warily, gives a matching one to Evie. "Looks good on you. You guys are doing just fine."

"Hey. Where's mine, punk?" Bucky complains.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Such a jerk. Ladies first, Buck," he says before turning to plant a kiss on Bucky's forehead, too, and ruffling his hair.

 

* * *

 

Later, Steve makes a pencil sketch of the scene he'd walked in on - Natasha in the rocking chair, cradling Evie and looking down at her, in a shaft of sunlight through the windows. 

Bucky hangs it up on the wall of the office (the place he's increasingly thinking of as the baby's room,  _Evie's room)_ in a little frame over the crib.

 

* * *

 

The next few days pass in a sort of daze.

"I never knew babies sleep so much, and yet so inconveniently," Steve groans when Evie cries for her 2 am feeding. 

"Ugh. 'S your turn," mumbles Bucky.

Natasha buries her head under her pillow. "Not it. I did it last time."

"Steve", they both say in unison.

"Nuh-uh. I'll...drop her or something," Steve panics. 

"She's getting louder," Natasha says, rolling in next to Bucky. 

"Guys. I don't...I can't do this."

"Stevie. C'mon. 'S not hard, punk, just _go_. Prolly needs a diaper change too, y'wanna do that part first while the bottle's heating up. Thanks, pal", he slurs, reaching out with one foot to boot Steve firmly out of the bed, slinging an arm around Nat's waist.

 

* * *

 

Steven Grant Rogers has led men across enemy lines and into battle on numerous occasions. Steve has jumped out of airplanes with (and without) a parachute, has taken down a Quinjet with only his shield, has been involved in takedowns of numerous bad guys and evil organizations. Steve has fought aliens,  ghosts, and gods from other realms. Steve has personally punched Adolf Hitler in the face over 200 times. Steve has won the American Defense Service medal, the Purple Heart, and the Presidential Unit Citation Badge for distinguished honor in battle.

Steve Rogers is terrified to change a diaper.

Evie has worked herself into an angry wail by the time he stumbles into her room, her tiny fists flailing and feet kicking. Steve hovers over the crib and stares, uncertain. 

"Okay, I can do this," Steve murmurs to himself, and reaches in to pick her up. God, but she was so _tiny_. Her little body fit neatly in his two big hands. He carries her awkwardly over to the changing table, tries to remember what he'd seen Bucky do. Unsnap the snaps on her sleeper...does he have to take her legs out of it? He stares. Probably. "Right, the bottle, gotta get the bottle started," and he turns towards the table where they'd set it. As he does, Evie nearly rolls off the changing table. 

"Jesus, Mary n' Joseph", he swears loudly, and Evie cries harder. He looks at her for another long moment. He'd have to pick her up to make the bottle. Bucky'd nestled her in the crook of his arm, so he tries to do that with her. The baby screams, red in the face. "Sshhh, shh shh shh, shh, Evie, shh," Steve hushes her, sounding like a weak reassurance even in his own ears. "We're gonna get you settled, kid, just...just gimme a minute."

He jams the bottle in the warmer and pushes the button, and brings her back over to the changing table. He slaps on a new diaper as efficiently as he can under the circumstances, which is probably not as well as he'd like, because she keeps kicking and he doesn't know how tight is too tight for the adhesive. He manages to snap her sleeper back up haphazardly, skipping a few buttons for speed's sake, and sort of wrangling a blanket around her to keep her warm. 

Snatching the bottle back out of the warmer, he plops himself down in the rocker and sticks the bottle in her mouth, and her screams immediately stop as she begins to suck hungrily. Steve takes a few deep breaths, trying to relax. It was a harrowing experience, but he'd managed to get through it.

"It was a lot easier to punch out Hitler," he whispers to her, but he's smiling.

 

* * *

 

When Steve doesn't come back to bed after two hours, Bucky wakes up.

"Stevie?" he calls out to the darkness. No response. "Steve?" He sits up, pushing the sheets aside.

Nat's eyes snap open. "Where's the baby?"

When they rush into the baby's room, there's no one there. Nat checks the crib - empty, with an empty bottle lying discarded on the floor. 

"Evie's gone," she panics, running into the living room with Bucky fast on her heels. 

What she witnesses makes her skid to a halt. The early morning light reveals Steve, passed out on the couch in a pair of grey sweats, with a sleeping Evie cradled against him, drooling onto his bare chest. 

They stand there, stunned, for a full ten seconds before Bucky turns to Natasha and whispers, "Get your phone. We gotta get a picture of this before they wake up."

The photograph is sent to everyone in the Tower with the caption "Rogers' Greatest Victory".

 

* * *

 

"We're going to have to send you three undercover to where we think this facility is", Maria Hill explains. "Fury wants to know what they're up to, and we can't just send in a team, guns blazing, and take control of it if there are children involved in any way. We don't want anyone getting hurt."  

"Wait, hang on. We're _not_ leaving Evie." Bucky sets his jaw, already ready for a fight. He looks behind him at the baby carrier they'd placed on the floor. Clint's leaning over it. 

"Hiiii baby," he says in an unnecessarily high pitched voice, and waves at her. " _Hi_ baby. Hello! Hello tiny baby."

Evie gurgles and blows a spit bubble.

"Lucky, look, she likes you." The dog gives a happy little whine and licks her toes, and the baby laughs. "Oh my god, she laughed. She  _laughed_ , you guys. Oh my  _god_. This kid is great. We're gonna get you a dog, baby. Everybody needs a dog."

Nat rolls her eyes. "She has a _name_ , Barton. It's _Evie_."

Clint ignores her and addresses the child in the carrier, who is smiling up at him. "What should we name your doggie, baby?"

Bucky sighs and turns back to Maria. "We're _definitely_ not leaving her. And definitely not with _him_."

"You won't be. You two," Hill gestures at Bucky and Natasha, "are going to be posing as a married couple. That one," she gestures at Steve, "is going to be your nanny."

" _Seriously?_ " Bucky and Steve exclaim at once. 

"Yes, seriously. That little girl looks too much like the _both_ of you to pass it off as his." 

Steve looks at the group and shrugs. "She does." 

Maria crosses her arms, trying not to look irritated but failing. " _Anyways_. We've established cover identities for you, secured a residence, and we're deploying you in the field tomorrow. Report to the briefing room in an hour for mission parameters." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "tsiplyenichka" - little duckling  
> "moya zvyozdochka" - my little star  
> "moy mili" - my dear
> 
> all errors in transliteration are mine :)
> 
> If you like this disgustingly silly, grossly adorable fluff...thing, come follow me on tumblr at fuck-me-barnes.tumblr.com!
> 
> Up next! The undercover misson begins! WITH A PUPPY!


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